In My Head
by Cap'n Plastic MacTastic
Summary: Kirby Plaza from the POV of a certain villain, you may feel the need to watch the episode again  SUPERMASSIVE SPOILER FOR EXPLODING MAN


This has been written as the first half of a prologue for a crossover. Lana (the author – yes I have permission to post, I wouldn't dare otherwise) has agreed to let me post this separately on here. (We can't post the whole thing here 'cos apparently song lyrics aren't allowed. But the whole thing will be on LiveJournal, so I may post a link when it's up.)

_I love the way the writers have perverted the heroic mono-myth for this show; Gabriel Gray sleep-walks through life until he's visited by the old wizard Chandra Suresh, he undergoes his rite of passage - slaying his dragon, Brian the Special, and stealing the treasure - transforms into Sylar, then accepts the quest he's given by Suresh (at least in his head) and sets out to be a great hero. It's just so delightfully messed up._

The author Lana, to Mac, in the conversation that made him bug her for fanfic

**Sylar **

"Haven't I killed you before?" Sylar asked in a quiet voice. At first he'd been shocked when he'd seen this dead man in the painting, the future, but here they were. One on one, and now his duty was clear.

"Didn't take."

Sylar smirked, almost chuckling, it was amusing that nurse would find the situation funny, but no matter. He'd killed him once, he could kill him again. With a thought, he grabbed the other man by the throat, no touch necessary, **this is power.**

"You think I'm gonna let you ruin it all? Take all the glory?" Sylar growled the words, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. The other dangled helpless as a kitten, clutching at his throat. Then his eyes flicked at _something._ **What are you looking at? **There was a sound and Sylar spun, but without relinquishing his hold on his first victim. A brief twist of power controlled by his flat palm stopped the bullets long before they hit, spun them in the air and sent them back at the advancing cop. **Instant karma, that'll teach you to interfere.** The cop's large form fell to the ground, writhing in pain. As he turned back to Peter, Sylar was aware of multiple heartbeats, leaving the building. He recognised the girl's, and Mohinder's. **I'll deal with you later**, he thought grimly. **But first**.

That parking meter would act as a decent weapon. He willed it to his hand, felt the heft of it, and dropped his opponent to the floor with one satisfying swipe. He felt the impact jar through his body, the crunch of impact, and it felt So. Damn. Good.

"Did you really think you could stop me?" He was just about to hit him again, deliver a killing blow, when someone grabbed the meter from his grip. **Why do his friends always attack from behind**, Sylar wondered, spinning to see who it was this time. It was a blonde woman, tall, skinny, delicate, brandishing his chosen weapon like a club. He was faintly surprised that someone so fragile looking would join the fray, but still, if she wanted to die that was her decision. Before he could react the meter slammed him in the gut, knocking him to the floor, surprised he felt a rib break. **You bitch**. Another superpower, he'd have to get that one, add it to his collection, that one could be very interesting.

Somewhere a child shouted and through the pain of grating bone Sylar was dimly aware that Peter was on his feet again. He started to drag himself up, ready to take on the world if he had to.

Peter slammed a fist across his face, once, twice, thrice, pause, four times. It hurt like hell, augmented by the blonde's power, **big man now aren't you Pete, you really do fight like a girl**. Sylar fell with the punches, took the pain, started laughing, because he knew that making Peter angry would only serve his purpose. The taste of hot copper in his mouth told him he was bleeding, a tongue proved there were some teeth loosened. But all he felt was a red fierce joy, because the damage meant Peter was losing his temper. **Now I get to save the world.** Sylar thought happily, picking himself up, bloody but not broken. The atomic glow of Peter's hands was a lovely, dangerous sight, but not half so beautiful as the expression on his face…

"Wait, no, NO." Peter was staring down at himself, the horror writ plain across his features. Sylar took the opportunity to force himself fully upright, grinning like a hungry wolf.

"Turns out you're the villain Peter." It felt so right, twisting the knife in this man's back. **I'm the special one, what have you done to deserve your power? It was so damned easy for you, and you didn't even learn to control it.** "I'm the Hero." He stood and studied his enemy, revelling in the experience, gloating at the realisation dawning so plain on the smaller man's face. **And now I kill you, I save the world. Me. The HERO.**

Before he could step forward and fulfil his destiny there was a familiar noise. Where had he heard that before? Knowing it was important, he paused, ran through his memories, found the right one. His Mother falling to the floor, bloody fingers grasping at him, at scissors. The shout from behind pulled him out of the scene.

"Sylar!"

**No. **He turned on his heel, recognising the heartbeat, the voice. **What is your problem. What did I ever do to you.** "You." Maybe he was still shaky from the memory of Mom's falling corpse, maybe the sight of the ridiculous little Japanese man rushing him with a sword seemed too unreal, too fantastic. Whatever it was, he didn't react in time. He felt a slight impact as the sword hit, and at first felt elated, it was a prop. It must be, it didn't even hurt. And then the white flash seared across the nerves of his chest, straight through and out the back. Catching up with the scalpel sharp blade lodged deep inside. IT HURT. There was a pause in his brain that seemed to last for eternity, deep in the dark he heard Gabriel's echoed gasp of agony. **I'm in shock.** Then he couldn't really feel the pain anymore, there was too much of it, slamming through his torso, burning through his chest. His nervous system shut the hurt away, washed it out of him in a flood of adrenaline. **The metal feels so cold…** The detail seemed extraneous but strangely important, his brain was trying to focus on details to save itself from reality.

"Yatta!" The little man spat out before drawing the blade free. Sylar stumbled, not really certain which way was up anymore, he was aware of hitting the cold granite of the plaza, a shockwave of pain screaming through his torso. He tried desperately to keep himself conscious, **this can't be over, not yet, not like this…**

The little man ran over to the enemy, "Peter Petrelli!"

"You can stop this…"

"How?"

Above his protesting nervous system Sylar heard the voices and somehow understood them. **Oh no you don't.**

"I need you to kill me…"

**That's my plan!** The anger gave Sylar strength, he flicked his fingers and _pushed_ with all the power he could muster. The look on their faces as the smaller man flew backwards was all the satisfaction Sylar needed.** If I can't be the Hero no-one can. I'll take you with me. All of you… **

He let his head slump to the floor, exhausted, waiting for the fiery end. **It wasn't supposed to be this way,** was all he could think. As the world swam in front of his eyes a vision took him, the kills, the harvests, everything he'd done to get here, all his hard work. The last six months distilled into one screaming whole, it seemed like the quest had been longer… As the pictures finally faded out on a tableau of his broken form in a pool of blood, he wondered sadly if anyone would even remember his name. And then slipped into blessed darkness…

_Across the city people stared skywards at the burst of fire in the sky. Very few realised its significance. Very few realised they were once again entering an age of heroes._

_And those who knew? They missed two important details. One, death was no longer so certain. And the other? A trail of blood, leading into the darkness of the sewers…_

A/N – Villains very rarely know or accept that they're villains. Unless they twirl big black moustaches and annoy Dudley Do-Right (because let's face it, you'd smell a rat if you were doing that…)


End file.
